


The Christmas Gift

by orphan_account



Category: The White Queen (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-03
Updated: 2014-07-03
Packaged: 2018-02-07 05:52:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1887351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anne and Richard have not been dating very long, so when he shows up at her door after Christmas, it’s an unexpected—but pleasant—surprise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Christmas Gift

They lie under her brightly lit tree in a battlefield of abandoned ribbon and torn wrapping paper. They are caught in the slow dance of the first time, their touches awkward and their kisses uncertain.

Anne holds her breath as his fingers trail over her bare arms, hesitant and gentle. She wants to remember this moment forever, a tattoo chased into her memory by the ink of feeling. His lips follow his fingers, tracing over her shoulder and her collarbone before stopping at the hollow of her throat. She lets go of the breath she's holding, a whisper of anticipation and he looks up at her with a shy smile. In the pale moonlight, his eyes glisten silver like newly fallen snow and she thinks he’s the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen.

She laughs gently, and wraps her arms around his neck, pulling his face to hers so their smiles can press together. Richard kisses her slowly, his mouth gentle but insistent. He tastes like mulled wine and spearmint, like Christmas, and when she pushes closer, he growls against her lips and deepens the kiss, tangling his tongue with hers.

Everything is suddenly heavy, and just as suddenly, there is too much fabric between them. They tug clumsily at clothing, each other’s, their own, until the offending garments disappear in the clutter under the tree. They fall back to the floor in an ungainly tangle of limbs. On another night, they might have laughed, but tonight, there is only urgency, a desperate need to finish what they’ve begun.

His mouth is like a furnace when he kisses her again, his touch searing her skin as his lips move from her mouth to her collarbone and then lower on to her belly. His hands follow, thumbs stroking across her body until he brings them to rest at her hips. He looks up at her, a question in his eyes. Slowly, unsure of herself and of him, she nods, and he presses a kiss to her navel, saying her name in a reverent murmur against her kiss-dampened skin.

The tension is unbearable. She’s wire-taut in anticipation, and she can feel the way his hands tremble as he holds her. Finally, he ducks his head between her legs and she gasps as he touches her. She forgets how to breathe, loses herself, as she tangles her fingers in his hair and rakes her fingernails across his shoulders. She needs to hold on to him, or she’ll surely drown in this river of sensation. She says his name, a choked whisper, the only word her brain can conjure, the only sound she can make as his tongue delves into her warm folds. His mouth laps against her, more and over and again, until she is nothing but a giant bubble of scorching heat. Her lungs burn, her heart pounds against her chest, and blood rushes to her face as the bubble explodes and a tidal wave of pleasure crashes over her.

It’s a long while before she comes back to herself. When Anne opens her eyes, the first thing she sees is the Christmas tree, the lights still twinkling on and off. In that multicolored glow, she spies Richard watching her, head resting on her thigh. He smiles and leaves a soft kiss on the inside of her thigh. She can tell he’s concerned for her, but also very pleased with himself. How smug, she thinks, and laughing, she tugs at his hair until he raises up and brings his forehead to hers. She cups his face in one hand and studies it. He’s nearly as flushed as she is, though his reason is different. She can feel him hard and ready against her thigh, and his breathing is far less steady than her own as he shakes with the effort of self-control. She laughs again, an easy breathy sounds and then kisses him, wrapping her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist, inviting him in.

He huffs gratefully against her neck when she raises her hips to meet his and he drives into her in a single smooth motion. His first movements are slow, uncertain, but she mutters encouragement, running her fingers along his shoulder and chest until his confidence grows, and he begins to thrust powerfully into her. He kisses her roughly, hands stroking over her chest and stomach in heated caresses before he buries his head in the crook of her neck.

His breathing is ragged now, uneven, and she can sense how close he is. She tightens her legs around his waist and grinds her hips into his. He moans low in his throat, and grasps her shoulders in an almost iron grip. He shudders and moans against her as he drives into her one last time before collapsing on top of her, calling out her name in a strangled, almost grateful voice.

She laughs softly and brushes his sweat-damp hair out of his face as his breathing slows. He releases his grip on her and kisses her softly, first her shoulder, then her neck and finally, her mouth. She smiles against his lips, and when he pulls away from her, she curls up against his chest, reluctant to be apart from him.

He strokes her skin absently and murmurs against her hair. She sighs in contentment and whispers against his chest. “Merry Christmas, Richard.”

He laughs. “You know, when I was 16, I asked Father Christmas for the best holiday shag ever. He’s only ten years late, but at least he never disappoints.”

**Author's Note:**

> Written for an Anonymous request at Tumblr: 
> 
> Can I have a modern Richard x Anne drabble where they get it on either under or just beside the Christmas tree after they've opened their presents ;)


End file.
